Friday, February 10, 2012

Since I seem to be on a "confession" kick, I thought it might be time to share something that is of fundamental importance in my life.

I hate spoons.

A bold statement, I know, but the fact of the matter is that I believe spoons to be the black sheep of the utensil family. It isn't the size or shape of the spoon, but more what one can do WITH and TO the spoon that really bothers me. (OK, gutter minds, keep it clean)

Beth Proudly Presents: Things I Hate Involving Spoons

1. I generally dislike the consistency of things eaten with a spoon. These include, but are not limited to: yogurt, pudding, tapioca, and cottage cheese.

2. People know how to put food on a spoon, but don't really understand the importance of taking it OFF the spoon. They put the spoon with the undesirable substance in their mouths, and when they remove it, half of it still remains. Ick. Ug. Yuck.

3. There is a larger surface area on a spoon where mouth germs can remain, as opposed to normal utensils like a fork or knife.

4. In keeping with #3, if someone else were to use my spoon, their icky germs and half-eaten food remains on my spoon. There is only one solution, and that is to get a new spoon.

5. I don't like watching people eat with a spoon. It is just gross.

For years, I kept my spoon feelings quiet, secretly getting a new spoon if my dad or mom were to use mine. In general, I avoided spoons entirely, choosing to eat ice cream with a fork if possible. I ate soup very carefully. I stared at the ceiling when people around me were eating yogurt.

As I write this, I realize how very weird I am.

Regardless, I finally "came out of the spoon closet" and admitted my extreme dislike for the harmless looking utensil. To my surprise, after making fun of me for a while, my family and friends were very understanding. They don't even ask to share spoons with me now, and just smile knowingly when I leave the room when ice cream is served.

Except, of course, that incident at Awful Arthur's in The Outer Banks when my friends played a prank on me. But we will not speak of it here.

The moral of this story is: It's nice to have understanding people surround you when you have spoon issues.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

I'm afraid of the people behind the deli counter at my Giant grocery store.

We used to have a decent relationship. I would ask them for a pound of thinly sliced turkey, or 3/4 pound of honey ham. Sure, they wouldn't actually smile at me, or overtly appear to enjoy their job in any way. And really, who can blame them? They slice meat for a living.

But our somewhat harmonious acquaintanceship disappeared the day my husband complained about the ham I brought home. It turns out, he likes his ham to be "shaved" or "chipped", which is the thinnest form of slicing possible. Seeking to please him, I made my merry way to Giant, list in hand.

﻿﻿

This ham is mad, just like the
deli counter people.

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When I reached the deli counter that fateful day, however, everything changed.

Apparently, asking for shaved ham is the equivalent of asking them to swing by their knees from the rafters in their underwear, for I was given the dirtiest look imaginable from a human being when I made the request.

I was taken aback. Had I said something wrong? The deli person went extra slow that day, scowling first at the ham that was chipping onto the paper, then at me. He slapped it on the scale, shoved it in the bag and walked away without asking if I wanted anything else.

At first I thought maybe he was just having a bad day, so dismissed the odd behavior. When I returned a week later, however, I received a similar reaction from a different deli person.

In short, they really hate me.

I can see it in their eyes when I approach. "Shaved Ham Girl" they might call me behind my back. Or something worse. I don't know. All I do know is that I am terrified of them now.

When I ask for shaved ham now, I turn into a shadow of myself, often making the request quickly, then turning as if to examine the cheeses behind me, just so I won't see their evil stares.

Call me a wimp if you want, but I dare you to try it. You'd be afraid too.

Monday, February 6, 2012

When I obsess over something, it often consumes my thoughts, creating an almost irresistible urge to look at it 24/7. I sneak peaks when no one is looking, just so they won't realize I'm a complete obsessive freak that really likes new things. I have a very difficult time controlling these obsessions, but do my darnedest to hide them from . . . well . . . you.

It feels good to get that out. I thought I might share some of my obsessions with you today, because my newest obsession involves my blog. In case you missed it (and you probably did), I have installed a Stat Counter at the bottom of the very blog which you are now perusing.

Wait. You think this is obsessive?

Like all of my obsessions, I've tried very hard to keep myself in check. This entails not checking the stat counter forty times a day to see how many people have come to visit my fine writing. But it is hard. Very, very hard.

Most my obsessions start this way. I'm introduced to a new concept, app or web-thingy-majig of sorts, and am likewise fascinated by this item. I must have it. NOW. So, I don't wait and immediately get my hands on it, so to speak, without considering the consequences.

I prefer immediate gratification to sensible waiting.

However, this new "thing" in my life begins to take over my thoughts. I get curiouser and curiouser about this item, wondering about the next time I can check it, find it or look at it.

Usually, I somehow feel that this item in some way either confirms or molds or upholds my popularity (or lack thereof).

Hence, if I feel better about myself after looking at it, I keep going back for more. If I feel worse about myself after viewing it, I keep coming back to see if my status has changed. I do recognize the ridiculousness of this statement, and would change my mind if possible, but 33 years have gone by and the outlook does not look good at this point.

Some Items That Became Worthy of My Obsession:
Facebook
Text Messaging
My Blog (Beth's Bemusings)
The Clarity of Night Website when I entered a writing piece in a contest. By far, this received my best obsessing efforts. Ever.
Rate My Teacher.com

Words With Friends

Work Emails

Scramble with Friends

And the latest . . .Stat Counter

To my credit, I eventually get over the "newness" and stop the pathetic obsessing, but it sure can take a while. I'll lose interest in the Stat Counter too.